


I miss a feeling (that I've never had before)

by mousecookie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Essek Thelyss Needs a Hug, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Xhorhaus Rehabilitation Center for Evil Wizards, a mostly canon-compliant interlude set in ep 110, if they won't give us Essek in canon I will write it, written pre-111
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousecookie/pseuds/mousecookie
Summary: Before going to dinner with Trent Ikithon, the Mighty Nein leverage Caleb’s new teleportation abilities to spend the night somewhere they all feel safe together: the Xhorhaus in Rosohna.  It’s only logical to check in on their favorite drow wizard while they’re at it.Or: In the wake of the peace talks, Essek is dismayed to realize he has grown a heart.  It’s quite small, and it really only fits the Mighty Nein, but it’s a start.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 52
Kudos: 375





	I miss a feeling (that I've never had before)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my edition of "if they won't call Essek in canon, dammit I will do it for them". A small note on the set-up: I started writing this before 109 aired, so I hadn't expected Veth would end up split from the group. So while I realize it's a little clunky for the M9 go grab Veth from Nicodranas and *then* hop to Rosohna mid-110, I've decided that's what they did. Magic!! 
> 
> Potential content warning: this fic has descriptions of Caleb's canon habit of anxiously rubbing at his arms when he's upset. If you find that triggering in any way, please be warned! 
> 
> I cling to hope this fic will get jossed by canon Essek content at some point. Fingers crossed.

There was a candle flickering on the desk in Essek’s private office in the Lucid Bastion. Essek did not need any candlelight to see by; in fact, he could have done his work in total darkness if he wished. But still, there it was, a muted glow in its misted glass jar.

His fellow drow might use natural light like this to enjoy an increased complexity of color in their surroundings. Darkvision could only capture a limited range of hues compared to what was visible in daylight, after all. But this was not why Essek had a candle. Though he certainly wouldn’t admit it to anyone, Essek had it to remind himself of the Mighty Nein - specifically, their absurd tree, which glittered with magelights in the middle of the Firmaments. Essek could just barely see it from his home if he stood on top of his tallest tower. He had done so many times, especially recently. 

Ever since the successful peace negotiations the Bright Queen had been doubling down on messages of faith, telling the people to rejoice and take comfort in the power of the Luxon. For what better evidence was there of their deity’s grace and favor than the return of the stolen beacons? Essek himself had had to take part in several ceremonies and sermons - thankfully not as an orator, but being present at all was bad enough. The fervor of his fellow Kryn was almost nauseating in its intensity. Essek often felt like a small boat at sea, unable to get away from the powerful waves of religious expression, forced to follow the motions or risk being capsized. 

It was incredibly lonely.

Lonelier still, he hadn’t heard from the Mighty Nein since their last meeting. He told himself this was typical behavior for them, but it was hard not to be concerned. Not concerned enough to scry on them, but... concerned.

The ordinary candle on Essek’s desk and the distant glimmer of an alien green tree in the Firmaments were more comforting to him than any blessing the Luxon’s blind priests had ever offered him. They were a symbol of something real. 

And he needed something real -- these days especially, the further he mired himself in lies and falsehoods. _The tangled web,_ he had told the Mighty Nein. He was still tangled in that web now, just weeks after seeing Adeen Tasithar absorb the blame for theft of the beacons, after seeing the second beacon returned with no discovery of the spare, after seeing both sides of the peace negotiations part ways with no conflict. His ambitious plan had come to fruition. 

However, there was one last task that he could not escape.

Paperwork. 

It was a mundane but critical piece of his ruse - what was written by those in power was usually accepted as the truth by those who later learned of the events. Essek needed to be the one choosing those truths. Today, his office was full of the quiet sounds of a quill pen scratching on parchment as he wrote report after report. 

Due to his subterfuge ( _treason, dangerous but necessary for his goals--_ ) he had never been able to delegate much of this work to an underling. The details were too important. His carefully constructed narratives had to remain intact. 

In months past, Essek had written about his earnest search for the “missing” beacons. Now, he was writing about post-war surveillance efforts, increased security within the Dynasty, and speculation about what strategic moves should be made next. It was a delicate balancing act to write recommendations relating to a problem he himself had created; too much detail and he risked revealing his own footsteps, too little and he’d get follow-up inquiries for more information. His accounts and assessments had to be as accurate as possible, yet conceal his untruths, and also be _exactly_ the right amount of boring, so as to not incur interest. 

A headache was rapidly settling at Essek’s temples when a familiar voice burst into his mind, startling him into making a horrible inkblot under his quill.

**“Helloooooo Essek! Oh my god, it has been SO long since we saw you, things have been CRAZY, you have NO idea. Anyway, we’re in--”**

The message abruptly cut off. It was so painfully typical of Jester, it made Essek’s chest ache. 

It had been only a few weeks since he’d seen the Nein during the peace talks - hardly a long time, in the grand scheme of things. But it felt like a long time, sometimes, in the same way that it felt like he’d known the Mighty Nein for years rather than months. He should know better, _time being his specialty_ , after all - but the Mighty Nein were intense and chaotic in a way that seemed to simultaneously stretch and accelerate time around them better than any dunamancy. They were constantly breaking and reinventing everything they touched at a frightening rate. Sometimes, Essek felt like they had broken and reinvented _him_. 

Now that they had made contact, he could admit to himself just how worried he had been at not hearing from them. Worried they had gotten hurt, or worried they had changed their decision about whether he could be forgiven. How ridiculous was that? His first worry was not that assets had been lost, or that information might be leaked, but whether or not his _friends_ were alright, and whether or not they still _liked_ him. It went against everything he used to know about his own nature.

He took a deep breath to reply, but before he could get a word out, his consciousness was once again interrupted.

**“--Rosohna! We can’t WAIT to see you, you should come by, or we could come by your tower, are you there? By the way, Caleb--”**

The message ended just like the first. Essek froze, waiting. _Caleb, what?_ But there didn’t seem to be a third installment, and so he cautiously replied. 

“Hello, Jester. I’m glad to hear that you have all returned safely. I am not currently at my home. I will stop by this evening.”

There was no further reply from Jester. Whatever the mention of Caleb had been, it would have to wait. Essek would see them all this evening regardless. Although... what if she’d been about to say Caleb wasn’t there? Perhaps he’d had business elsewhere, maybe in the Empire? It would feel… empty, to see the Nein without Caleb among them.

Essek rubbed absently at his forehead, where the ghost of Caleb’s kiss still lingered. _That_ had happened only a few weeks ago, too. A few weeks, or a lifetime. Essek’s eyes fluttered shut as he relived the frantic moments of his attempted escape from the party in the Opal Arches -- the Nein’s persistence, trapping him however hard he tried to escape -- the panic rising -- the crushing weight of their disappointment and pain as they saw him for what he truly was, and what he had done. And--

_Caleb’s unbearable kindness._

_The worn calluses of his fingertips against Essek’s cheek - careful, like he was someone who deserved to be handled with care._

_Chapped lips on his brow._

Essek winced and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was being ridiculous. He simply had to proceed as normally as possible. The Mighty Nein would do… whatever they were going to do. They might not fully trust him again, he knew, but perhaps they could still work together when it was prudent. To “do good things together,” however they saw fit. If he played his cards right, the “good things” they did could suit Essek’s own purposes as well. He already had a few ideas to that end.

In the meantime, he had to get his business in order. He would keep playing his role as Shadowhand until the farce faded slowly into reality once again, and he could mostly put the whole mess behind him.

...And that meant paperwork. 

With a sigh, he looked down to his half-finished report. In the moments of his inattention, the inkblot had spread across several words, spoiling the page. It was too late to magic the mess away - if he tried, he might erase all his writing as well. Shame he couldn’t force the Prestidigitation spell to differentiate spilled ink from freshly written ink. Idly, he recalled Caleb’s various cat-themed spell modifications, like his skillful manipulation of Bigby’s Hand into what he called Cat’s Ire ( _show me something impressive--_ ) and wondered if the wizard might have ideas on how to make such an adjustment. 

Well. That was perhaps an appropriately light conversation to have at dinner, which would also show that Essek valued and respected Caleb’s abilities. A perfect topic. 

Essek drew out a fresh sheet of parchment and began again, discarding the ruined page. As he penned beautiful lines, one after the next, he wished it could be so simple to start anew with his life’s other problems.

Scratch, scratch, went his quill. _‘The advantage of pursuing continued expeditions into the caves surrounding the ruins of Aeor is clear. The recent conflict has shown the Empire to be eager for the acquisition of arcane knowledge that may be weaponized, and it is likely they are accelerating their own investigations. My recommendation is that---’_

\---

Some hours later, he found himself standing in front of the Mighty Nein’s affectionately named “Xhorhaus” (Essek still couldn’t help but shake his head at the moniker). He was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a box of tea cakes from a local bakery in the other. He might have gone a little overboard. It was a _very_ nice wine. But the tea cakes were a little stale, purchased this late in the day, and he was hoping the quality of the wine would make up for it. It was a stupid notion, of course. If he knew the Nein, no one except Beauregard would fully recognize or appreciate the quality of the wine, and Jester would still be disappointed with the cakes. 

In the back of his mind, Essek wondered when he convinced himself that the right offerings of food and drink would somehow protect him. Information was the far more important currency. Information would keep him in good standing with the Nein, keep them close, keep them tractible. _(Keep them from throwing him into the sea--)._

Essek knew how to control information. He’d also cast Fortune’s Favor and imbued himself with a Fragment of Possibility, just in case. It never hurt to have a little extra advantage. 

He was ready.

The door opened with a tinkling of chimes, shaking him from his musings. Before him stood Jester.

“ESSEK!” She squealed, and promptly wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. 

Essek was pinned, wine and pastries preventing him from returning the embrace - for which he was thankful, if he was being honest with himself. He was still getting used to the idea of being hugged in the first place. After recent events, part of him was flinching, waiting for the hug to become a grapple. (It didn’t, of course.)

Jester released him and waved him impatiently inside, still chattering, to where a few others were beginning to filter into the front room.

“We missed you SO much!! Are those cupcakes? Omigod, you brought cupcakes,” Jester said, and whisked the box out of his hand. 

“I did say I would bring pastries on a later occasion,” Essek reminded her, smiling politely. He hadn’t forgotten her disgruntled Sending during the peace talks, or her final parting words - a reminder of the same: _Bring Pastries._ If Jester was the type of person to waste a powerful spell to ask about baked goods, then it was worth it to get on her good side by following through. He needed every ounce of goodwill he could get.

The tiefling’s tail swished, and she narrowed her eyes at him consideringly. “Are they better than the pastries you had before at your house?”

“Ah, I hope so,” Essek replied. “These are… sweeter, think? I requested a different kind than before.” _Apologies that they are stale,_ he didn’t say. _I did my best._

“Aww, you _really_ care about me don’t you,” Jester cooed, making a total shift in demeanor as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Caleb will be SO jealous.”

Essek felt himself blush faintly. Caleb, jealous? Probably not a comment worth taking seriously. Jester said random, outlandish things all the time ( _“you’re going to have to make a LOT of babies--”???_ ) and sometimes, it was better to back away slowly.

“I hope you will enjoy them,” he said, all courtly graces, ignoring the mention of Caleb.

Beau appeared from the doorway to the training room. There were small beads of sweat on her brow, and her knuckles were wrapped. She looked to be in the middle of some kind of workout. Fjord trailed behind her, also in sparring attire, but clearly worse off: he was drenched in sweat, with a magnificent split lip and a bruised eyebrow. He was still catching his breath. 

“Ah, Essek, glad you could join us,” Fjord said, dragging a sleeve across his sweaty face. “Apologies about our… informal appearance, I’m in the middle of getting my ass kicked.” 

“Heh, yeah you are,” Beau smirked at the half-orc. “But hey, you know, I didn’t K.O. you like, immediately, this time. So that’s progress.” Then her sharp eyes looked Essek up and down, and the warmth in her expression faded. Essek braced himself for whatever cutting judgement was surely coming. The monk crossed her arms. “I told you, you don’t need to float around us, man. You too good for us again? Hiding something?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Oh, dear. Not quite the criticism he was expecting, but-- not inaccurate. He was still floating, wasn’t he. 

“Ah. I, ah-- old habits.” Essek released his graviturgy cantrip with a conscious effort. Having his feet on the ground felt much more exposed, somehow, despite only being a few inches difference. He scrambled for something to appease Beau. “I brought wine?” he said, lifting the bottle. “It is called Moonbright wine, a very good vintage. I imagine you will not have tried such, before.”

“What, you think I haven’t had good wine?” Beau challenged immediately, and skillfully parried Fjord’s attempt to elbow her in the gut. “You know my family is a wine family, right? They’re a wine family.”

Light, could Essek say nothing correctly? The back of his neck felt hot as he replied, hurriedly, “No, ah, that is not what I meant, at all. Only, it is made with a native Dynasty cultivar of grapes, grown in moonlight and starlight on the outskirts of Rosohna, without ever seeing the sun, which I imagine are growing conditions not common in the Empire--

“Okay, okay, chill,” Beau interrupted him, sighing as she blocked Fjord’s next elbow without looking. “Stop trying to ingratiate yourself. It’s weird, and it’s not working. Did you bring a corkscrew? I’ll get a corkscrew.”

She grabbed the bottle and left, leaving Essek with Fjord. 

“She’s, uh, grouchy because I got in a few good hits before she laid me out,” Fjord confided in a low voice.

“It’s fine,” Essek replied delicately, not bothering to point out that Beau had been all smiles until she’d seen Essek. Fjord’s diplomacy, while a little clumsy, was not unwelcome. His heart thumped a frantic tattoo in his chest. How was he going to make it through the evening, when even the greetings were so fraught?

In a split-second decision, he unhooked the ornate clasp of his mantle and took it off. He felt a bit naked without it, but with the Mighty Nein, a display of vulnerability was its own kind of armor. Beau taking offense to his graviturgy was a good reminder of that. 

He looked for somewhere to hang up the garment, but, seeing no coat stand or hooks, he left it draped over a chair. He could always Prestidigitate the wrinkles out later. 

“Are things going well here?” Fjord asked as they headed further into the house. Essek could hear sounds of the others rattling around - conversation, the occasional yell, the occasional loud thump or crash. Typical Mighty Nein sounds. 

“As well as can be expected,” Essek said. “There are a lot of loose ends for me to tie up. _Paperwork_ ends,” he hastened to clarify, after Fjord gave him a sideways look. “They are not _people_ , however suspicious Beauregard may be.”

“I really hope that’s true,” Fjord said mildly. Essek felt himself beginning to sweat.

They entered the dining room. Veth sat tinkering with her crossbow (Essek felt a small burst of nerves, which he ruthlessly suppressed) while Beau had opened the Moonbright wine and was pouring it into a mismatched set of clay and glass cups. 

Beau lifted a glass to examine the pale liquid, sniffed it, then took a hearty sip.

 _That is meant to be savored slowly after a meal,_ Essek thought with mild dismay _, where its delicate subtleties can be appreciated._

He did not say this out loud, of course. He suspected that Beau could probably have surmised as such, anyway, and was doing this just to irritate him.

Beau licked her lips. “Not bad.”

Essek gave a gracious nod. “I am pleased it meets your standards.”

Beau’s face wrinkled. “You’re doing it again.” When Essek tilted his head inquisitively, she continued, “Trying to ingratiate yourself with weird formalities. We’re not your Lucid Bastion court buddies. You’re supposed to be your friends. You can talk to us like we’re your friends.”

 _Friends._ Essek hadn’t realized how anxious he’d been to hear one of them say that word until he heard it. “Friends. Yes. Court formalities… are hard to set aside, sometimes, but... I will try.” _I haven’t had friends since I was a child, so I have no idea how to talk to them,_ he didn’t say. 

Beau gave him a long look, then slid one of the clay cups in his direction. “Cheers to you trying to pull that stick outta your ass, then.”

Veth raised her own cup, grinning wickedly. “I’ll cheers to that.”

Essek choked a little on air, and Beau smirked while he coughed. He took a hasty sip of wine - an appropriately small sip, thank you - and let the calming, delicate flavor of white moon grapes wash over his palate. It really was a damn good bottle of wine.

The bulky form of Yasha appeared in the doorway to the rest of the house. She shuffled along the edge of the table past Essek, making him feel very small by comparison. Her eyes flicked briefly to his, but skittered away without a verbal greeting. Essek raised his cup to her, glad to be familiar with her particular brand of social awkwardness. At least, he hoped it was awkwardness, rather than quiet fury. 

Beau handed Yasha a cup of wine. “We’re drinking to Essek unbuttoning a bit.”

Yasha accepted the cup. “Oh, is he getting naked in the hot tub this time?”

Essek coughed again and cleared his throat. “Ah-- no, I am not sure I-- I am not sure that is... for me.”

“You don’t HAVE to get naked in the hot tub if you REALLY don’t want to,” said Jester, emerging from the kitchen with her mouth full and a half-eaten tea cake in her hand, frosting smeared on her upper lip. “But it is REALLY nice to sit in, you know, not JUST your feet.” She licked icing off her thumb and tilted her head consideringly. “You know, Essek, these are a LITTLE stale but overall? Much better than last time,” she remarked approvingly, her accent turning ‘little’ into ‘leetle’. “Very nice job.”

Praise for something like _selecting the right pastries_ should really not make Essek feel as accomplished as it did, and yet-- he found the compliment warmed him as much, or more, than any praise he’d received from his umavi for his work as Shadowhand. How upside-down his standards had become! He supposed he should be glad that he was learning to navigate the Mighty Nein’s value system. He’d have to become fluent to properly secure their trust again.

“I am very pleased to hear that,” Essek said.

He watched Jester feed the last crumbs of the tea cake to a very disheveled weasel that poked its head out of her cowl. 

“Here you go Sprinkle!” she cooed. “Tasty treats for youuu!”

The weasel made a hoarse wheeze, one snaggletooth peeking over its bottom lip. It looked slightly… feral. Essek unconsciously leaned back from the table, putting a little more distance between himself and those tiny sharp teeth. Jester pushed the crumb at its mouth again, and it mostly crumbled against closed jaws.

“Aw, he likes it!” Jester said. Tiny specks of pastry scattered down the front of her dress.

“Uh, Jester. Sweetie.” Veth interjected carefully, “He looks like he’s... still hungry after that VERY tasty treat. Maybe, he’d ALSO like some of those dried crickets that Vilya gave us for him? She said he REALLY liked them.”

“But crickets are gross,” Jester complained. “I could just get him more cake.”

Essek sought out Beau’s gaze, hoping for some information about how he was expected to react to all this, but she was looking at Jester. Yasha looked back at him when he glanced at her, but she didn’t seem interested in the goings-on with the weasel. Her mismatched eyes bored holes in him, impassively challenging him to... he knew not what. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. _Awkwardness, or murderous intent?_ Still too difficult to tell. Hurriedly, he broke her gaze.

He turned away in time to watch Jester’s weasel ravenously set upon a handful of dried crickets. Little bits of carapace flew this way and that. A few stray legs landed on the table. The weasel panted as though it had survived a great battle.

To Jester, this did not seem unsettling. “Wow, Sprinkle, you ate those so fast! I didn’t even have time to put real sprinkles on them for you!”

Essek, foolhardy, opened his mouth to question whether weasels would actually enjoy something as unnaturally sweet as sprinkles. Beau, Veth, and Yasha all stared him down at once, seeming to have some preternatural sense of the opinion he was about to voice. 

Essek closed his mouth.

Caduceus poked his head out of the kitchen, deep voice rumbling. 

“Hey there, Essek. I’d come in to say hello properly, but I’m working on dinner. It’s good to see you,” the firbolg said, smiling. 

In the face of such open friendliness, Essek found it easy to nod and smile back. “Of course. It’s good to see you, as well.” He was still amazed Caduceus had openly accepted his apology on the night of the party. However naive Essek thought this might be, he hadn’t forgotten the kindness of it. 

Caduceus began to retreat into the kitchen again, but his eyes landed on the bruised face of Fjord, and he stopped. “Fjord, you want me to heal that split lip before you--”

Fjord made a wounded noise, having already taken a sip of wine. No doubt the alcohol was like fire against the open cut. His whole face was screwed up like he’d bitten into a lemon.

“--take a drink?” Caduceus finished belatedly. His brow furrowed in sympathy.

“It’s fine,” Fjord said thickly, clearly still in a lot of discomfort. 

“Are you sure?” Caduceus asked. “It’s not too late, I can-” he wiggled his fingers demonstratively. “Just a quick Healing Word oughta do it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Fjord insisted, against all reason. “Absolutely no problem. Doesn’t even tingle.”

“If you say so,” Caduceus said skeptically.

“Can you smell something burning?” Fjord sniffed exaggeratedly at the air.

“My spinach puffs!” Caduceus gasped, and vanished back into the kitchen.

Essek found himself pursing his lips to suppress a laugh. He noticed Beau glaring at him with an expression that was quickly becoming familiar _(“you’re doing it again--”)_ and let himself relax into a small grin. Here were the favored heroes of the Bright Queen, unorthodox but frighteningly effective diplomats between rival nations, and they were floundering over pet care and simple pride. He was really quite fond of them. But… there was still a very important element missing.

Essek made a show of looking around the table, and then quietly cleared his throat. 

“Did, ah, Caleb not accompany you on your journey here?”

The others all exchanged looks.

“Weeeeeell,” Jester said slowly, biting her lip. “You see, the thing is… he got married!” She squealed and grinned brightly. The others nodded. Beau and Veth clinked their wine glasses together.

Essek was stunned into silence, his carefully ordered words scattered to the ether. “Ah. I… ah. Many congratulations to him,” he fumbled, his insides swooping unpleasantly. “I hope that it is a, ah, a happy and fortuitous match. Who--?” 

There was a pause, and then Jester’s earnest look split into a beaming grin and she burst into laughter, the rest of the table not far behind.

“Your FACE!” she crowed. “OH my gosh Essek, your face!” She wiped away tears of mirth.

Ah. A joke. And really, one Essek should have seen coming from miles away. How embarrassing. Essek was contemplating what in the hells he was supposed to reply with, when a voice came from the doorway.

“You assholes are all making quite a racket,” said Caleb, leaning on the doorframe and sleepily scrubbing a hand over his face. “What is going on?”

Essek’s vision focused in, and the trailing laughter from the others dimmed in his perception.

Caleb was here. He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t… married. Probably. 

But just as importantly, Caleb was supremely and devastatingly _rumpled_. His shiny red hair might have been in a bun at his nape at some point, but it was more a bird’s nest now than anything else. There was at least two day’s worth of scruff on his jaw. The collar of his shirt was shifted askew, and also unbuttoned at the throat, revealing a scandalous amount of collarbone and a peek of reddish chest hair. In short, Caleb was a vision, and Essek drank him in with far more appreciation than he had the Moonbright wine. Now _this_ was something to be savored.

How odd that the wizard was sleeping so late, though. Human sleep needs were mostly a mystery to Essek, but he knew they preferred to sleep during the late night hours. They’d had a harrowing day, or journey, maybe? Essek was familiar with the consequences of imperfect teleportation casting. Now that he thought about it, his secretary hadn’t notified him of a Mighty Nein arrival through the Lucid Bastion teleportation circle. It was quite possible Caleb was stretching his legs with new spell abilities. Light! The rate at which the man learned new things was continually impressive.

“Cay-leb! Did you have a good nap?” Jester chirped.

“Good enough,” Caleb shrugged, then frowned. “I am not sure how well I am going to sleep, until after--” There was a **_mrrrpp_ ** noise as Frumpkin made his presence known by hopping up onto the table, and Caleb finally spied Essek. His frown disappeared. “Oh! Essek. I did not hear you come in. I am glad you are able to join us.”

Essek wondered what Caleb had originally been about to say, but offered him a small smile, his heart beating a little faster. “I am glad also, though I am very sorry to have disturbed your rest. Are you well?” There was genuine concern in the question. However enticing a sleepy Caleb might be, Essek was starting to see there was also an air of stress about the wizard now that he was waking up properly - a tightness at the corners of his mouth, a restlessness to his fingers.

At the edge of Essek’s perception, he heard Beau mutter to Veth, “This feels more like a flirting thing than the ingratiating thing.”

Veth replied, “Yeah, definitely flirting.”

Caleb mercifully ignored them, or did not hear. He slid into the seat across from Essek. “I am well enough. And you? How have you been faring? I expect there has been a very different tone here since we visited last.”

A dissatisfactory answer on his wellbeing, thought Essek - something was clearly wrong. Perhaps this was a matter of the trust Essek had yet to re-earn. 

Outwardly, he nodded politely. “With the end of the war there is a large element of relief and celebration, as you can no doubt imagine. But anger at the Empire also remains, as it will continue to remain. Oh - hello.” He broke off as Frumpkin - still comfortably on the table -approached and butted his head against Essek’s chin. Cautiously, Essek patted Frumpkin’s back, glancing at Caleb to make sure this was allowed. He discovered that Caleb’s look had melted butter soft as he watched his familiar beg for attention.

 _Note for my records,_ Essek thought. _Pet the familiar more often in future, when permitted._

“You can scritch,” Caleb encouraged, flexing his blunt fingers in a claw-like motion to demonstrate. “He likes that.”

Essek copied the gesture, and immediately got bopped on the face with a fluffy tail as Frumpkin arched his back and purred like a thunderstorm. Essek was struck by a very silly desire to press his ear to the cat’s side to hear what it sounded like close up. (He did not.)

“What have your travels been since our farewell at sea?” Essek asked Caleb and the group at large. “It has been some weeks. I imagine you have been up to many interesting things?” He wiped a cat hair away from the corner of his mouth as delicately as he could manage.

“Ohmigosh, you have NO idea,” Jester said immediately, her face lighting up. “So, you remember the Traveler?”

“I do recall, yes.” That conversation had been awkward, and more than a little weird, and Essek still had the hand-drawn pamphlet tucked away in a drawer to prove it.

“Well, after the peace talks we went to a VOLCANO and had a HUGE party for the Traveler. Also we learned that people on the island were like, FORGETTING everything about who they were, and we rescued them by killing this REALLY BIG and SUPER MEAN octopus-hermit crab guy from the astral plane, who was like, hoarding a bunch of stuff, and---”

Essek blinked as the wave of colorful words washed over him. Some of it didn’t make sense (though knowing the Mighty Nein, it was probably all true), but what Essek found himself enjoying most was the sheer exuberance of the retelling. Jester was clearly enjoying the story, and also enjoying telling it to Essek in particular. Because they were friends.

It was enough to make Essek relax his court-perfect posture, just a little. He nodded and commented as best he could whenever Jester paused to take breath.

Yasha leaned over the table to Essek, holding out a small handful of-- more crickets. “I got some of the extras. Would you like some?”

At first Essek wondered if this was another joke, not because they were insects (which were not uncommon fare in some areas of the Dynasty, especially as street food) but because these particular crickets had been slated as weasel food not too long before. But Yasha popped one of the crickets in her mouth and chewed with apparent relish, so... a peace offering, maybe?

Essek selected a cricket and ate it. Crunchy… surprisingly savory… and with a spicy finish. Huh. Not bad. Essek nodded to Yasha in appreciation. “My thanks. An interesting experience.”

She gave him the tiniest hint of a smile, then pulled back the handful of crickets to eat herself.

“Dinner’s coming in hot, make room please,” Caduceus announced, popping in from the kitchen. He winked at Yasha. “And don’t spoil your appetite with crickets.”

Everyone shuffled to clear space, and soon the table was festooned with plates and bowls of sauced vegetables, grilled mushroom steaks, dumplings, and a main course soup the firbolg seemed to have adapted from local Dynasty style, made with grain noodles and lotus root and topped with fresh chopped herbs. No sooner were dishes on the table, eager hands were reaching for serving spoons and handing plates around. There was little of the formal ceremony Essek was used to in the company of the Bright Queen’s court, or with Den Thelyss.

“Wildmother’s blessings,” Caduceus said, warm but perfunctory as he set down the last bowl. “Feast of her bounty. Tuck in.”

The rest of the Moonbright wine was polished off quickly with the start of the meal. Essek, warm with food and company and feeling daring, took it upon himself to pour the last glass for Caleb. No one batted an eye. This told Essek that the Nein were still unfamiliar with many Dynasty customs; among the Kryn, to serve the last pour of good wine to another was a sign of particular favor, and depending on the context, a courting gesture. He’d been aiming to imply the former, while mentally indulging in the idea of the latter. Well, if no one had noticed - it was no matter either way. 

At that moment, Essek remembered - he had prepared a topic of light conversation for Caleb! Now seemed like an appropriate time.

“Caleb, I am curious,” he began, “What your particular strategy is for the modification of basic spells. I find myself wishing to, shall we say, _fine-tune_ the parameters for the Prestidigitation spell, and I am hoping to learn your perspective on the matter, given your evident success with similar endeavors in the past.”

“Oh,” Caleb said, and blushed, which Essek immediately found very charming. “Well, what you have seen with Cat’s Ire is more... cosmetic, than functional.”

“True,” Essek acknowledged. “But it shows you grasp the spell’s most fundamental tenets, and understand them well enough to manipulate them. Anyone can copy or produce a spell that already exists, given the right components and instruction. A true wizard is one who can author his own.” 

“Shoulders of giants,” Caleb replied, shrugging, though his cheeks remain stained with an attractive pink. “We have talked about this.”

Essek felt pleased with himself, then worried if he was being too obvious again. “Of course,” he acquiesced. “I maintain my point about your own skill, however. As for the prestidigitation spell, I am hoping to be able to discern between ink that has been written into words, and ink that has been spilled. It is a minor irritation in my work, particularly in recent weeks.”

“Are you writing a lot of letters?” Fjord spoke up, bemused. Frumpkin, hearing the voice, left Essek to meander towards him, and the half-orc quickly leaned back from the table and covered his nose. Curious.

Essek inclined his head. “A great deal of correspondence regarding the end of the recent conflict with the Empire, yes. Also records and reports for my superiors.”

Beau wrinkled her nose. “Paperwork. Gimme research any day, but paperwork is just… paperwork.”

“Just so.” Essek replied. “These are the loose ends I spoke of.”

Caleb, meanwhile, was wearing an intense, distant look that Essek could easily identify as a scholarly fugue. He chose not to interrupt, and instead steepled his fingers under his chin and waited. This was a prime opportunity to mentally catalogue the amber shine of Caleb’s hair under the candlelight.

“Funnily enough, I have never bothered to learn Prestidigitation,” Caleb said at last, eyes still half-focused. “But… it is in my wheelhouse of transmutation. But the difference between written and spilled ink… is more a matter of _time_ , perhaps. You might consider attempting to restore an item to the way it had been ten seconds prior, instead of a longer period of time. And that is more, ah, up your alley, I think? Time?”

“I prefer graviturgy, but yes, time is also an area of expertise.” Essek said thoughtfully, fingers tapping his chin. “Hmm. Blending transmutation and dunamancy to fix a slip of the hand. A weighty proposal for a very diminutive purpose. How audacious.” He smiled to soften the word to a tease.

Caleb shrugged. “Sometimes it is better to start small. You know, then if you get it wrong, you only lose a piece of paper, instead of un-knitting reality.”

“Certainly something to avoid,” Essek agreed. “I don’t know how long you are staying for - perhaps you would like to collaborate in this endeavor?”

The wizard’s expression grew chagrined. “I would like to, but we are only here for the night.”

“So short?” Essek prompted.

Caleb shrugged, looking uneasy. “It is unavoidable, I’m afraid.” He didn’t elaborate further. 

Essek was very, very curious about that. He wanted to know what the Mighty Nein were up to, what _Caleb_ was up to. But… he also knew he was in a position of needing to regain their trust. He could start now, by offering something first.

“Well,” he said mildly, “In that case, more scholarly curiosities may be a topic for another time. If your stay here is short, there are some things I should relay to you sooner than later, regarding movements of the Dynasty.”

The whole table was suddenly _very_ focused on Essek. It was satisfying to know he could still command their interest, but also nerve-wracking; now he needed to deliver something of value. Unconsciously, his shoulders squared and his chin lifted like he was speaking up to the Bright Queen.

“You have some means of detecting scrying, do you not?” he began. “I would ask you to do so now, so we may be very sure of our privacy.”

As one, the Mighty Nein looked at Fjord. Fjord shrugged, and with a crackling flash of cold air, his gleaming Star Razor was in his hand. There was a pause as Fjord examined the room around them. Then he nodded, and the sword vanished in a shower of snowflakes. Frumpkin lapped at the droplets of water left behind.

“We’re good,” Fjord said.

Essek nodded to him, then took a steadying breath. “You may recall that the last time we met, I said that this new peace would distract from the next competition between our nations. I could not elaborate further at the time, but I feel it prudent to do so now. Tell me, do you know of the ruins of Aeor in Eiselcross, and what may be found there?”

The Mighty Nein exchanged glances across the table. They were not subtle.

Essek tilted his head, eyebrows raised in polite interest, though internally his stomach sank. “Ah. I see this is not a new topic to you.” 

Beau pursed her lips. “No, it’s not. But that’s all we’re gonna say.”

There was really no need for them to say much more, Essek thought with some irritation. The only reason for the Mighty Nein to be coy about their knowledge of Aeor was if they already knew someone engaged in the activity there. And, with the Nein being increasingly well-known for their great deeds… it was a logical conclusion that they had been solicited for work, as bodyguards or adventurers, and most likely for someone in the Empire. Possibly on order of King Dwendall himself. Essek was disappointed, but he could live with that as long as it wasn’t the Cerberus Assembly. He might tolerate them for their research but the idea that they might be poaching the services of his friends set his teeth on edge. 

Essek sighed. He would continue with what he’d planned to say, even if he already knew the likely response. 

“The Bright Queen is very interested in conducting more expeditions to the believed ruins of Aeor, with the hope of retrieving magical items that will fortify the Dynasty against future attacks. I do not know if I will be assigned to these matters, but my arcane expertise in dunamancy makes me a logical choice, and it is an idea I will encourage, for my own interests. If I succeed, I had hoped I would be able to call upon your assistance. I am not well-acquainted with this particular kind of, ah, fieldwork. The _adventuring_ kind. I thought you might be my traveling companions, and offer me some protection. You would be paid handsomely, of course.”

As Essek suspected they would, the Mighty Nein once again exchanged unsubtle looks. Fjord had a lengthy nonverbal conversation with Beau that consisted mostly of moving eyebrows and frowning. 

“Well... I think we would certainly, uh, be amenable in concept, but we’ve got a lot of irons in the fire for the moment. Some business in the Empire, in the immediate future, as soon as tomorrow,” Fjord said, glancing to Caleb, “And possibly... other things... after that. Uh. Keep us posted?”

Well, those were a lot of busy-words that confirmed to Essek that the Nein had already been propositioned for work in Eiselcross. But the glance at Caleb… hmm.

Essek offered a faint, neutral smile. “Of course, I understand you have many demands on your time. What is the most immediate business, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

“Nunya beeswax,” Veth retorted immediately, crossing her arms.

Before Essek could offer a platitude to wheedle further, Caleb abruptly spoke.

“I have been asked to dinner,” he said, with a strange smile that did not reach his eyes. It was unsettling. Essek was left floundering for a moment, remembering Jester’s earlier joke and wondering if Caleb had an unwelcome suitor. Then Caleb continued speaking, his syllables becoming more clipped in his precise Zemnian accent, “With my old teacher, Master Trent Ikithon. With whom, as you have mentioned, you have been collaborating. I am curious what you know of him after all this time.”

Ah. There was another piece of information Essek had suspected, but not confirmed - that Caleb had previously been a student of one of the more powerful Cerberus Assembly mages. The hints of Caleb’s past association (training?) with Scourgers, his deep hatred of corruption in the Empire but the Assembly in particular, the pain he wore like a shroud. Pieces fell into place in Essek’s mental map, and he did not like the picture they were beginning to make of Caleb’s past with Trent Ikithon. But for Caleb’s question, Essek had what he hoped was an acceptable answer. 

Essek lifted a shoulder. “I have had limited contact. He seems to be a deeply... unpleasant person, who I of course do not trust. Like the Martinet, I will enjoy never seeing his face again.” 

Caleb held his gaze steadily. “I hope that you do not. He is the one I have warned you about, who will happily throw you on the pyre the moment you stop being useful to him.”

“We might have to KILL him,” Jester interjected bluntly. Fjord tried to shush her, but she ignored him. “It could be _really_ bad. Essek, you won’t be mad if Ikithon, like, DIES and can’t do research for you anymore, right? Because he is like, the _worst_ person. A total _fuckhole_. Would it bother you if he was dead?”

Essek was used to the intensity of Jester’s cheerfulness, but the weight of her impending judgement was unexpectedly terrifying. If he couldn’t convince Jester he could lose them all.

Essek cleared his throat, glanced at Caleb, and spoke truthfully again. “The Cerberus Assembly has many members. Trent Ikithon is, to my knowledge, not the only one conducting research on the beacon. If he is gone, the others will simply have to… increase their own efforts. I wish that whatever the outcome of your meeting is with him, that it is most advantageous to you, and you alone.”

Jester nodded. A little frown still played around her mouth, but she didn’t argue.

Beau, however, stared him down. “So you’re not gonna warn him? Or anything?”

Essek inhaled sharply, stung despite himself. “I would not do such a thing. My agreement is with the Assembly for research on the beacon, and largely through the Martinet. How he decides to fulfill that arrangement on his side is no matter to me. Furthermore, I would not betray what trust you have left in me, knowing now that Ikithon is a particular enemy of yours.” 

Beau gave him a cool smile. “Just checking.”

Caleb shook his head. He carded a hand through his hair, his eyes far away. “I am very pleased to hear that, Essek, but I suspect it would not matter, anyway. A man in Trent Ikithon’s position expects a great many people to wish him dead at any given time. I… I can imagine he would expect such of me, given our history. I am more worried about what his own intentions are, after all this time. I don’t know what he wants.” His lips pursed. “This… reunion… has been coming for some time. More than a decade. I do not know if there will be any bloodshed tomorrow. It is on his turf, so it would be unwise for us to make any unwelcome gestures. Mostly I am just after information.”

As Caleb spoke, the corners of his expression grew more pinched, and he began to rub and grip nervously at his forearms. His sleeves were rolled back, and Essek saw that the freckled skin there was marked by dozens of upsettingly precise scars - marks he’d only glimpsed before in passing. They were in plain view now. Caleb pressed against them, heavily swiping over them like he was both trying to remind himself the scars were there, but also trying to wipe them away. Beau reached across Veth without looking and casually dropped her hand on Caleb’s wrist. Caleb winced and flexed his hands, but stilled. 

Essek had never liked Trent, but it had been a generic kind of distaste. Watching Caleb now… that distaste was curdling into something angrier and lancing hot through his insides. 

With effort, Essek maintained a relaxed set to his shoulders as he waved a hand unconcernedly. “Well... I hope whatever the outcome of this... reunion is, that it is most favorable to you. As I say, he is but one of the Assembly mages within the terms of my agreement with them. I am not attached.”

There was an unimpressed noise from Veth.

“Question about that whole research arrangement,” Beau broke in. “How do you know they’re even telling you what they’re learning? Like, what’s stopping them from being like, whoops, we didn’t find anything, sucks for you?”

Essek nodded in acknowledgement, though he kept half an eye on Caleb. “A logical concern. There are certain protections in place. If I feel they are being reticent, I have information I can share to their side that would make their lives… complicated. Ah, ‘mutually assured destruction’, as I have said before. They may not be sharing _everything_ , but I would expect nothing less. I would certainly do the same, in their position.”

“Skimming a little off the top,” Caleb said absently. 

Essek tilted his head. “That is one way of putting it.” 

“So what about in the future?” Beau asked, leaning her elbows heavily on the table. “Once you’re in bed with these guys, strikes me that it’s kinda hard to get out again without a pretty significant walk of shame. You planning any more treason we should know about?”

Essek’s pulse leapt. Should he lie? He noticed Caduceus was looking at him intently, and felt uneasy under that knowing stare.

He gave an awkward laugh, and the truth tumbled out. “Ha, planning? No. But you are right, it is difficult to take an arrangement of mutually assured destruction and merely… set it aside to be forgotten about. I know that I will continue to receive Assembly research on the beacon. They might also seek to leverage their connection with me for further favors, which I do not wish to entertain. I certainly do not plan to start any more wars, and I do not associate with the Assembly lightly.”

In all honestly, Essek wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to have a clean split with the Assembly without bodies going into the ground. Hopefully that wouldn’t include his own.

Beau pursed her lips, unimpressed. “Well, that’s a start I guess. He’s not planning any more wars, guys.”

Essek lifted his hands in helpless frustration. “That is all I can offer. I am being as forthright as I can, and that is what I have. It is a complex and delicate situation.”

“You had no idea it was going to be like this when you started, did you?” Caduceus asked, speaking for the first time in a while. There was nothing but kind curiosity in the firbolg’s tone, but Essek felt shame curl in his gut like it had been a reprimand.

“To be fair, I don’t think many people can predict us,” Caleb said wryly, “Considering we ourselves cannot, half the time.”

“Oh, I don’t mean us,” Caduceus said. “I mean with the Assembly. I don’t think he thought that one through, at the beginning.”

“It would seem not,” Essek replied, frustrated, fighting to keep curtness from bleeding into his tone. “Though I also had no reason at the time to think I might have… other loyalties to complicate such an association.”

“Loneliness does things to people,” Caduceus replied evenly. “The Assembly probably looked like the closest thing you had to “not lonely” in a long time. I can’t fault you for that.”

Essek shifted uncomfortably. He felt fine telling the Nein he had been lonely before he met them, but to suggest he’d connected with the Assembly trying to be… what, friends?! Laughable. “They were merely convenient. They lacked the encumbrance of blind faith shared by my fellow Dynasty scholars, and so I decided to use them for my own gain.”

Caduceus smiled gently at him. “We’re saying the same thing.”

Essek shook his head, askance. “I do not understand your meaning.”

“You’ll get there,” Caduceus said, tone warm with comfort. “But regardless - you have us now. Well, I can’t speak for all of us, but I’d like to help you, when you decide you want to try and break those ties you made with them.”

 _I don’t want them to hurt you all,_ Essek didn't say. “That is kind,” he said aloud.

“It’s decent, that’s all,” Caduceus demurred. 

Caleb spoke then - not to Essek, but to the group. “We want to root out corruption in the Empire - in the Assembly. Ensuring that Essek can leave them behind… seems like a similar goal, to me.”

“I mean, only if Essek doesn’t, you know, decide he likes them better than us, and betray us again,” Veth said. 

“I do not like them better than you all,” Essek cut in hastily. “Of that, there is no question.”

The halfling looked shrewdly at him. “Do you even _want_ to break ties with them, though? It sounds like you still want your research.”

Essek winced, unable to deny it. “I want all this conflict to have meant something.”

“Just because you jumped into the fire, does not mean you have to stay in it,” Caleb told him.

Essek sighed, gaze dropping to avoid the intensity of the compassion being aimed at him. He laced his fingers together in his lap, then unlaced them, then thumbed at the embroidery hemming his tunic. How could he step away from the arrangement after all the work it had taken to reach this point? All the risk and danger? And now, with the promise of knowledge he’d been so desperate for, hanging in the balance...

“Just think about it,” Caduceus encouraged. Then, he loudly clapped his hands together, making some of the Nein startle. “Now! I think that’s probably enough of that. I believe there are teacakes for dessert, and I have a new mushroom cake in the oven.”

Mercifully, the tension was broken. Teacakes were served. Conversation broke and scattered into several different topics, including more outlandish stories about Rumblecusp and the Traveler.

Essek said nothing. His posture drooped with exhaustion. 

Frumpkin sat in front of him, his cat’s tongue stuck out in a little blep. _Cute,_ Essek thought distantly. _Did your master tell you to do that?_

There was a creak and a _clang_ as Caduceus opened and closed the oven compartment of the pot-bellied iron stove in the kitchen, and for a split second, all Essek could think was that it sounded exactly like one of the cell doors in the Dungeon of Penance. How close had he come to being thrown into one of those cells himself? If he had been, it would likely have been a short stay prior to a brutal execution. The Bright Queen did not look kindly on either heresy or treason. It was still entirely possible that he would have to answer for them both. The Nein had the power to make that happen.

All at once, the cheerful clamor filling the house felt like a thick, suffocating fog that he had to escape. He stood, feeling Caleb’s eyes on him, and quietly fled upstairs towards the roof.

Veth melted out of the shadows at the foot of the stairs, making him jump.

“Going somewhere?”

“Just looking for some fresh air,” Essek replied, deeply uneasy.

Veth narrowed her eyes at him, and Essek stood, pinned. 

“I once seriously considered sabotaging the peace negotiations to be able to be with my child,” she said after a moment. 

_What?_ That was… news. Essek struggled to comprehend the circumstances.

Veth continued, “I considered it because of how much my family means to me. If you never had a connection like that before, and magic was the most important thing to you... I can understand why you might do what you did. But you have us, now. You don’t need the Assembly anymore.” Her motherly expression abruptly changed into something sharp and fierce as she continued, “That doesn’t mean there won’t be some kind of justice for you, some day. And, if you hurt my boy Caleb, or my husband, or betray any of us again, I _will_ kill you in your sleep. Understand?”

“I would expect nothing less,” Essek replied. Even without her goblin teeth, Veth cut an intimidating figure. It didn’t matter that Essek had a plethora of deadly magic at his disposal. After seeing the Nein accomplish everything they had, he had no doubt that Veth was capable of what she promised.

“Good,” Veth replied, apparently satisfied. She patted his elbow as she breezed past him back into the kitchen. “Remember to come back down for tea.”

Essek hurried on. He was floating by the time he reached the tower roof. Being a foot above the ground was hardly enough to separate him from his problems, but well... it was a habit. 

The cool night air on his face was a blessing. When the roof hatch closed behind him, the cacophony of the house became muted. Distant. There was a layer of insulation between himself and the Nein, however temporary.

With a relieved exhale, Essek floated a little higher and gazed out over Rosohna without really seeing it. His thoughts churned and swirled. 

Some minutes later, a familiar voice broke the tepid silence.

“So this is where you have disappeared to.”

Of course it was Caleb who had followed him - the member of the Mighty Nein most suited to peeling back his defenses, except perhaps the dangerously insightful Caduceus. If the Luxon really was a deity, it was clear it did not favor Essek.

 _Stop finding me when I don’t want to be found,_ he thought uncharitably. Memories flickered, Caleb’s hands clapping manacles on his wrists-- 

Essek mentally shook himself, and gave an elegant shrug. “Once I had told you what news I had, and answered your questions, there was little else of interest for me to say.”

“Oh, I know that’s not true,” Caleb replied easily. He joined Essek in looking over the rooftop.

Feeling like he was stepping on an obvious trap, Essek asked, “And why do you say that?” 

Caleb lifted a shoulder. “Because I want to hear what you have to say. Therefore, it is of interest, by definition.”

Essek’s mouth quirked, and then he sighed. “That is fair.” 

With conscious effort, he once again let go of his graviturgy cantrip, and his feet came to rest on the stone rooftop. _With the Nein, a display of vulnerability is its own sort of protection,_ Essek reminded himself. Caleb was now slightly taller than him. 

Caleb rubbed absently at one of his forearms. “We have also asked you to be forthcoming. Are you doing as we asked, truly? Have you told us everything? There cannot be any secrets anymore, Essek. Not with us. Not with me.”

“I have told you everything I know,” Essek replied. He laughed without humor. “Believe me, I know I am lucky you all did not simply kill me, the day you discovered my misdeeds. I would not risk encouraging the idea a second time. And… I would not wish to… to hurt you all, more than I have already done.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. Essek’s heart thumped - _lub dub, lub dub--_

“I overheard your conversation on the Wind of Eons with the Martinet, the morning we met you there disguised as Dezran Thain.”

Essek froze, then forced himself to relax. “Ah. I did wonder how you knew about… my involvement.”

Caleb tilted his head. “When you were talking to him, you said that you had taken a lot of effort to ensure that no one undeserving was hurt in your endeavors. Who did you mean?”

Essek blinked. “All of you, of course. My friends.”

“And what about other people? Thousands of soldiers on both sides? Their families? The people who live close to the borders? Have they not been hurt, or worse?”

Essek felt something twist in his chest, but he waved it away. “The Empire and the Dynasty have been in constant conflict for centuries. If it had not been this war, it would have been another, for another reason.”

Caleb hugged himself and looked at the ground. “You can tell yourself that. But all those people did not have to die, or at least, not now, and not because of you. I am not naive - I know that there is great tension between our countries that will take many decades to fix. But that does not wash the blood from your hands.” He looked up, his blue eyes pinning Essek to the spot. “It did not wash the blood from mine.”

More puzzle pieces for Caleb’s past. Essek raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Have you also committed treason?”

Caleb shook his head. “It was not treason, and that was part of the problem - they were terrible, unforgivable things in the name of my country. And if I had _not_ been there, there surely would have been another man in my place, doing the same things. But that does not make what I did _right_. We are better than the patterns of violence and hatred we are brought up in. We _should_ be better.”

Essek gestured sharply in frustration. “And what if I am able to do great things with the advancements of dunamancy? Things that may help people?”

“If it is through the dominance of the Dynasty, or of the Empire, then it is too great a cost.” Caleb said firmly. He sighed, and his gaze became so full of compassion, almost pleading, that it threatened to sour Essek’s stomach. “Essek, if you join our group, you are going to meet people who were affected by this war. Ordinary people, who have been hurt, who have lost everything. We care deeply for the plight of these people. _I_ care deeply for the plight of these people, both in my country and in yours. And I think when you finally see them, _really_ see them -- and the violence that has happened, and what it has done to them -- part of you will shatter. And I want you to know that when that happens, that we are here to help you pick up the pieces. That _I_ am here for you.”

Essek crossed his arms, growing more and more irate. “As I have said, I cannot be upset by violence that would have happened either way-”

“Oh, but it is clear that it upsets you in some way,” Caleb said calmly. “Even if you will not admit it.”

“And how do you conclude this?” Essek snapped, hating the fact that Caleb was being so even-tempered about this. He would have preferred anger. An attack.

“Well for a start, you are floating again,” Caleb pointed out, reasonably.

Essek realized he was indeed looking _down_ at Caleb once more, instead of up. Luxon’s bloody light! Of all the infuriating times-- He exhaled a hiss of a sigh, and forced himself back to earth. He wrung his hands together for a moment, before realizing he didn’t have his usual heavy mantle to cover the gesture, and quickly clasped them behind his back instead. 

“That’s better,” Caleb told him, not unkindly, and openly studied Essek’s face.

Essek haughtily lifted his chin under the scrutiny. He would cling to his dignity where he could. Shoulders tense and fists clenched behind his back, he braced himself for whatever ridiculous pithy assessment was coming next.

It didn’t come. Whatever Caleb was seeing, it made something in his eyes shift and soften, and he looked away. 

“Would you like to see the platform Caduceus is building in the tree?”

Essek blinked. “What?”

“Well, he is not building it, per se, but-- come, you will see.”

Baffled but very relieved at the change of topic, Essek stiffly followed Caleb where he led to the base of Caduceus’s tree. Now that Essek was looking, he could see a large swath of reddish, shelf-like fungi growing from the trunk. The mushrooms formed a gentle upward spiral that reached its crown.

“It is only temporary until Caduceus changes things up again, but for now, we have a staircase,” Caleb explained. He looked over his shoulder and added dryly, “Useful for those of us who have to keep both feet on the ground.” 

He was teasing.

After all that heavy lecturing and moralizing, Caleb was teasing him.

Well... it was better than getting clapped in manacles.

Some of the tension in Essek’s spine unwound as he began to follow Caleb up the steps. “Certainly you have some means of magical levitation, do you not?” he asked, absent-mindedly copying the way the wizard leaned inward towards the trunk and trailed a hand along it for balance. The steps were surprisingly sturdy for being made of mushrooms, and did not bow at all under their weight. They rose up and up, past several low-hanging bell jars full of cheerful sunlight. Essek found the lights weren’t too bright for his drow eyes if he wasn’t looking right at them. He took a breath, and let the ambient light embrace him like a friend.

“Oh, certainly I have some means, but they are not always prepared,” Caleb replied. “I usually make sure I have the option to fall a little slower, however. It is helpful when one is… ah, squishy, like me.”

Essek thought about Caleb’s lean, wiry stature, the firm angles of him neatly wrapped in his stylish clothes - of Empire cut, this time. While he knew Caleb was talking more about physical fortitude, ‘squishy’ wouldn’t have been Essek’s first descriptor. Though... now that he was thinking about it, he wouldn’t mind discovering what parts of Caleb were soft. The man was lean, but had his travels been kind enough to afford him a trace of softness over his belly? Another very intriguing and potentially ‘squishy’ part of Caleb was nearly at eye-level on the steps above Essek, shifting with every step. The wizard’s trousers were very well-fitted. Essek sent a silent thanks to whoever Caleb’s tailor had been, and for the opportunity to respectfully admire their fine work.

Caleb stopped, suddenly, and Essek nearly walked into him.

They had reached a wider shelf of fungi, enough space for both of them to stand on side-by-side, giving them a view of the crown of the tree. Thick branches arched out from the apex of the trunk in a wide candelabra. Essek looked for a platform, but there was none - the branches split from the crown at various angles, just like an ordinary tree. None of it seemed intentional or unnatural. There were, however, a few bell jar lanterns hung inside the hollow of the branches, illuminating lewd chalk drawings of dicks on one of the thicker branches.

“Jester has been up here recently, as you can probably tell,” Caleb said fondly.

“I might guess so, yes.” (...Did that penis drawing have wings? Yes it did.)

“Well,” Caleb continued, “Jester has asked Caduceus if we could have a platform up here to make it easier to sit. So he has been talking to the tree, trying to convince it to, ah, _grow_ one.”

They both looked at the distinct lack of any sort of platform structure. 

Caleb leaned toward Essek as though confiding a secret. 

“I do not think that it is working.”

Essek expelled a short breath of a laugh, despite himself. He risked a look at Caleb and saw that while his face was admirably deadpan, his eyes were crinkled at the corners.

“It appears not,” Essek replied mildly, succumbing to his own smile.

Caleb turned around and sat on the fungi shelf, his legs dangling off the edge. After a pause, Essek joined him.

They were around twenty-five feet above the tower roof, with an impressive panoramic view of the neighborhood around them. Dim lights flickered in some windows, cool colors, warm colors. Nothing too bright. It was ghostly and striking. Essek had always known the Firmaments was a beautiful neighborhood. With the exception of looking for the Nein’s tree, however, it had been a long, long time since he sat and simply appreciated it. If Essek was the type to read lurid novels (several of which he’d seen in Mighty Nein’s small library) he might have even called the situation romantic. There were other things on Essek’s mind, however - and with the mood softened, maybe now was the time to push the line of questioning he wanted answered. He wanted to know who the Nein had been employed by. ( _Please, not the Cerberus Assembly--)_

“I feel I must ask - this business in Eiselcross. What do you already know of it, truly?” Essek said, letting real concern color his tone. “Has the Empire offered you work there? I do not want you caught in the middle of potential conflict.” 

Caleb sighed, shoulders tensing. “You were not listening, earlier. There are some things we cannot discuss with you right now. There is too much going on.” He looked away, and his hand drifted up to his forearm again, resuming the now familiar anxious motions of flexing and rubbing across his scars.

Hm. Guilt was a new feeling for Essek, just like regret, but it clenched his stomach now, insistent and sickly. “I am... sorry,” he replied. He licked his lips, took a breath, and then slowly - hesitantly - he dared reach over and gently stilled Caleb’s restless hands like he’d seen Beau do.

Caleb stopped, his head jerking to look down at where Essek’s fingers curled over his wrist, then up at Essek, owlish in his startlement.

Essek quickly drew back his hand. “I am sorry, again, if I should not… I am sorry.” 

“No,” Caleb slowly. “No, it’s… alright.” He laced his fingers together in his lap. His fingers were a little tense, but he did not resume his agitated movement. 

Essek floundered on what to do next. He had ruined a nice moment, and he needed to fix it. He redirected his gaze out over the Firmaments, this time looking for something in particular. It should be just-- there.

“Look,” he said to Caleb, leaning closer and pointing. “You can just barely see the moonlight hit the arcanograph on my tallest tower. It is flickering, because of how the pieces move.”

Caleb leaned closer too, trying to look down Essek’s line of sight. Their shoulders pressed together. A stray lock of copper hair brushed Essek’s cheek. Essek instinctively held his breath, his attention now fully absorbed with Caleb’s warm proximity.

“Ah! I see it,” Caleb said. “It follows that you can see our tree from your home.”

There was a pause.

“If I stand by my arcanograph, yes,” Essek confirmed, a few seconds too late. To be fair, he’d just noticed that Caleb did not only have freckles scattered across his cheeks, nose and brow, but also a few on his lips. They were fascinating.

“Would you look at that, we are proper neighbors,” Caleb remarked. 

“Apparently so,” Essek agreed.

They fell into a companionable silence for a few moments. A fog began to sift over the buildings, bringing with it a slight chill. Night was truly falling.

Caleb inhaled, then slapped his hands on his thighs once and started to get up. “Well, we should be getting back.”

Essek nodded, also rising. 

In retrospect, Essek could not say if it was human clumsiness, dewdrops from the night air, or just simple bad luck - but one moment Caleb was at his shoulder, and the next the wizard had slipped and fallen from the mushroom ledge with a surprised, _“Aah!”_

Essek reacted lightning-fast, grabbing for Caleb’s wrist - and grabbed only air. 

Adrenaline surged. Hastily, he activated his unused Fragment of Possibility (why hadn’t he used that yet? No matter, he was glad--) to rewind half a second. This time, he lunged after Caleb and wrapped his arms around him, leaving no room for error. They were both plummeting for a terrifying second, the rough stone of the tower roof was rushing up towards them until - _vwoop!_ \- Essek’s cantrip activated, and their descent slowed like they had landed in water. 

They drifted gently towards the ground under the controlled influence of graviturgy. 

Now that they were drifting instead of falling, however, Essek’s mind finally bloomed into the full, overwhelming realization that he was pressed heavily against Caleb from neck to ankle. He hadn’t held anyone this close in… well, so long it didn’t bear mentioning. His already-racing pulse tapped frantically in his chest. His cheek was mashed against Caleb’s neck, skin against heated skin. The wizard’s arms were wrapped around Essek’s shoulders. He could smell something sweet in Caleb’s hair - soap, maybe. He fiercely wanted to bury his nose in it. 

_Panic._ That was a word. Also something Essek was starting to feel.

As soon as their feet came to rest on the ground, Essek hurriedly disentangled himself.

“Well,” Caleb wheezed a laugh, like he hadn’t just almost splatted on the stone roof. Like Essek hadn’t just practically grappled him. “That… is certainly one way to get down, I suppose!” He ran a hand through his mussed hair.

“If I had not been here, could you have caught yourself?” Essek demanded. “You said you had the capability.”

“Oh, ja,” Caleb said, revealing a slightly crumpled white feather clasped in his fingers. He must have retrieved it mid-fall. “You beat me to it. You had a better landing than I would have, though. I appreciate it.”

“You should be more careful, for one so… squishy, as you say,” Essek reproached, feeling upset, and upset that he was upset in the first place, and _also_ upset that he wasn’t hiding all that upset behind a smooth veneer of composure like he knew he should. This “caring” thing seemed to take a lot of energy. It was really quite aggravating.

Caleb waved a hand. “Oh, this is not the first tree I have fallen out of, and certainly will not be the last. We have two clerics,” he explained, like that made it all okay.

“A fact for which I am increasingly thankful,” Essek replied. The Mighty Nein’s most consistent feature seemed to be their ability to find or make trouble. Why had he chosen friends with such a penchant for chaos? Ah, but that wasn’t true - he hadn’t chosen them. They had chosen him, for reasons Essek still could not entirely understand.

There was a particularly loud crash from downstairs, followed by raucous laughter.

Essek suddenly dreaded going down to rejoin the rest of the Nein. The initial mixed reception had been difficult to stomach, and he didn’t want to see any looks of suspicion that might appear again when he walked into the room. For his betrayal, he could understand it, but they had such high and mighty morals, too! Idealists, the whole lot of them. Talking down to him about the realities of war, like Essek didn’t _know._ But as much as Essek disagreed, he also wanted - _needed_ them to continue accepting him. He’d tasted what it was like to have people look at him with real kindness, without guile, without _politics_. To lose that now would be worse than having stayed in cold ignorance.

“Essek,” Caleb said, breaking the swirling train of thoughts. 

“Hm?”

Caleb took his hand.

Essek felt his insides twist sweetly. Caleb’s fingertips were a little cool from the night air, but his palm was warm. Essek had never been so glad to be on the ground. Within reach. Vulnerable.

“Even after all we have said, you seem the most concerned that you will lose us,” Caleb said. “I know the feeling, because I felt the same when I told them all the truth about myself, who I have been, what I have done. I assumed that they would throw me away in disgust. I see that fear in you. But we have heard the worst things you have done, and we haven’t chased you away. We are all a little upset that you were deceiving us - that cannot be helped. But we are upset because we _care_ about you. Don’t be so afraid of losing us. You _have_ us. Be afraid of losing yourself, and the better man you could become.”

Essek knew he should lie. He should assure Caleb that he had seen the error of his ways, that his mistake was monstrous, that he would never tread such a path again. But like so many occasions this night, when he opened his mouth, what came out was the truth. 

“What if I have no further to go? What if.. what I am now, is all that I am capable of?”

Caleb shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

“But if it is true?” Essek insisted.

Caleb smiled lopsidedly. “You of all people should know that you have countless possibilities at your fingertips.” He tapped his own forehead, right between his eyes. 

The wizard was obviously referring to Fortune’s Favor, symbolic of dunamancy and the infinite nature of choices - of course he was, but all Essek could think about was the kiss. Maybe the double meaning was deliberate. If Essek proved himself a man worthy of redemption, would he be worthy of Caleb, too? Or was this yet another layered deception, more skillful than a clumsy hand on his arm in the swamp, this time - a promise of a future? One where Essek could return that kiss, and be welcomed?

Essek swallowed thickly, and looked away, sure his face was a veritable canvas of his thoughts. “I certainly hope that is the case.”

Caleb sighed. “All I can do is ask the same thing you once asked of me.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“Impress me,” Caleb said, a small, wry smile curving his lips. He gave Essek’s hand a squeeze. 

“Ah.” To his embarrassment, Essek flushed to the roots of his hair. “I will… do my best.”

Caleb released him and turned towards the roof hatch. “Now, come on. We should go back. They will all be insufferable if we are up here together for too long.” 

Something about seeing Caleb walk away made Essek impulsively speak up once more.

“This… _dinner_ , that you have tomorrow--” he broke off, words anxiously tumbling over each other in his mouth. He struggled to catch them and put them in order. “I know you will not accept an offer of help - I am not sure what I could offer to begin with. You do not trust me, and that is fair. But… will you send me a message, after it is done, if all is well?”

His heart pounded in his throat as the last syllable of the request was released into the night air. He didn’t want to suffer long weeks of silence from the Might Nein a second time, especially knowing they had gone straight into danger. He knew he should be above caving to petty emotional needs, should be above begging for messages - but all the Mighty Nein had done since he met them was to gently tug him earthward. He couldn’t help if his feet touched the ground now and again.

Caleb’s face softened, and the corner up his mouth tugged upward. “Ja, I think we can manage that. But, careful what you wish for. It is likely you will hear from Jester in the middle of the night.”

“You would be surprised by how much I have grown used to it,” Essek replied.

They shared a moment just looking at each other. A nightingale warbled from somewhere high up in the Xhorhaus tree. Essek soaked in the sight of Caleb’s face, and imagined closing the small distance between them. (He didn’t.)

A distant echo of laughter came from within the house, breaking the moment. 

Caleb jerked his head towards the hatch. “It sounds like they are having a lot of fun. Let’s go see what all the fuss is about, eh?” He turned and led the way down the roof hatch into the Xhorhaus. 

Essek took one last steadying breath of cool night air, and followed.

Everyone was installed around one of the two kitchen tables when they returned, crammed together like songbirds on a branch in winter, ignoring the availability of extra space. Jester had a set of cards - tarot cards? - on the table and was grinning at Beau, who appeared to be the subject of the reading. Caduceus was making the rounds with a steaming tea kettle.

“Ah, there you two are,” the firbolg greeted, smiling easily at them. “Did you check on the tree? How’s the platform coming along?” 

“I think the tree is still mulling it over,” Caleb said, glancing at Essek to share the joke. Essek’s lips twitched, but in the presence of the others, he felt again that certainty that he was standing on eggshells. Whatever Caleb had told him, it was hard to shake the impression that one wrong step would be all it took to break his fragile connection with these people. And there were so many things to keep track of! _(Don’t be too aloof. Don’t be too familiar until their trust is regained. Don’t lie if you don’t have to. Don’t get caught in the lie if you do. Pet Frumpkin when you are allowed to--)_

Caleb took a seat next to Beau, then nudged her until she grudgingly moved enough to make room for Essek beside Caleb. 

Essek slipped quietly into the empty space. There was a little pat on his thigh - Veth, at his other side, giving him a reassuring look. “He looks happier,” she whispered approvingly _(threateningly--)_. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I am not sure what you--” Essek started, but he was interrupted by Jester, which was really such a mark of normalcy that for a split second he found it immensely comforting.

The relief was short-lived.

“OOOooh, were the two of you sitting in the tree? Were you _kissing?_ You were gone a _very_ long time, you know.”

Essek felt heat rising to his face again. “We were only talking.”

Jester gave a saucy tilt of her shoulders and waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, Essek, the way you say that makes me think it was some REAL GOOD talking, huh? Like, there were TONGUES involved, you know?”

“Ah… it is my understanding that tongues are a fairly routine part of forming speech?” Essek riposted weakly. It was laughable how unpolished he became around these people. If the Bright Queen’s court could see him flounder like this!

Delighted by his feeble reply, Jester feigned a scandalized expression. “Oh my god, Essek, _routine_ _?!_ You are SO--”

“Leave the poor man alone, Jester,” Caleb cut her off, though his tone was fond. “You’ll make him reconsider his visit.”

“I once cut out a man’s tongue, and he was still able to talk a little,” Yasha chimed in, in that worryingly earnest tone that Essek could never tell was serious or not.

“Oh yeah? What did he say?” Beau snorted.

Yasha’s brow creased as she considered the question. “Mostly like… ‘Oooooouuuh.’ And, ‘Aauuuhhhh.’ But you know, I understood the gist of it.”

Beau grinned and laughed. “Yeah, that checks out.”

Essek’s vision was briefly filled by a large firbolg hand that set a teacup on the table in front of him, and followed by an expert pour of dark amber liquid that smelled pleasantly earthy, with a hint of sweet, like the last weeks of harvest season touched by the first decay of autumn.

“The Goldsworthy family,” Caduceus said somewhat nonsensically, smiling as he tilted the heavy kettle. “They’re great for late evenings. Glad you could rejoin us.” He moved on to fill Caleb’s cup, then to refill Yasha’s across the table.

“It’s good, Caduceus,” Caleb complimented, taking a sip. “Thank you.”

A wisp of steam rose from Essek’s teacup as he curled his hand around it. The ceramic was not of Dynasty style or make - it was squat instead of tall, with a wide, comfortable handle, and painted a royal blue with little yellow flourishes. It had probably traveled with the Mighty Nein from the Menagerie Coast. Essek decided that he liked it. It was just like candlelight in the jar on his desk. Like the magically-conjured pink parasol he still kept in his pocket dimension (not that he’d tell anyone about that, either). Like Caleb’s weight pressing steadily against his elbow, at this table crowded with people he could call his friends. _(At least for now-- as long as he could--)_

Essek let the warmth of the teacup soak into his palm, and desperately wished he was a better man.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, feel free to come find me on tumblr! I'm [ariadne-mouse](https://ariadne-mouse.tumblr.com/).


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